Imitating Life
by lielabell
Summary: Ginny thought all her dreams were coming true...
1. Things Fall Apart

I don't know what I was thinking coming to her house so early. I guess I just didn't want to sit in my house for another four hours doing nothing and the idea to just pop by her flat and get a jump start on all the wedding planning we had before us seemed like a good thing at the time. I didn't owl her or give her any hint that I would be there long before our prearranged time, instead I just walked to the fireplace, threw in some floo and dusted myself off as I stepped into her parlor. 

I know that I broke about a million etiquette rules by doing so and that, as my highly annoying co-worker and sometimes friend often tells me, those rules are there for a reason, but I had news. Big news. And I wanted to run over to her and tell her right away because what else are best friends for if not to be there when something important and wonderful happens?

Besides, you don't stand on etiquette with family and Hermione is family. Or at least she will be once she and Ron stop pissing around and seal the deal so to speak.

And that is what I was thinking when I burst into her home far too early on a Sunday morning.

She heard me call out and practically tripped over the rug in her haste to get to my side. She was wild eyed with her hair all frizzed out and her tattered old robe hanging haphazardly off of one shoulder. I smiled at her and opened my mouth to tell her what I considered to be the icing on the cake of my life but was cut off by her less than gentle tug on my arm and slightly angry hiss.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here Ginevra?" She said as she tried to pull me back to the fireplace.

"I wanted to see you Mione, that's all." I said in a slightly snotty voice. She knew I hated being called by my first name. She knew that it made me feel like I was five years old with Ron's nasty pet frog hidden behind my back and my Mother standing at the top of the stairs glaring down at me. And I knew that when she said my name like that I was in for a lecture of some sort, so I yanked my arm free and stalked over to the sofa, gave her a peevish look and plopped down.

"Oh for heaven's sake! You cannot stay here! Not right now anyway. I am…" She trailed off and a blush crept over her face. She glanced nervously back towards the bedroom and brought a hand to her face. I followed her glance and instantly knew what it was I had interrupted.

"Oh Merlin, Mione, I am so sorry. I never should have just barged in here like that." I heard a muffled male voice call out her name and felt a blush spread over my cheeks as well. "Tell Ron he had better stop by and tell Mum he's home before she finds out on her own or he'll be hip deep in it." I said with a slight smile.

Hermione looked confused for a moment and then shook her head at me in a way that made me feel like I was missing something before muttering 'whatever' crossly to herself. I stood and was almost to the fireplace before I remember what I had come for in the first place.

"Mione, I know you are busy, but I really do have some important news to tell you." I said while turning to face her.

"Not now. She said in a huff. "Can't you see I am not in the mood to listen to whatever it is you thought important enough to warrant disregarding social norms?" She scowled at me and crossed her arms. I was slightly taken back by her open hostility but then thought about how I would feel if she walked in on me while I was enjoying Harry's company.

"I guess it can keep till this afternoon." I said shamefacedly and reached out to grab a handful of floo. My fingers had just dug into the soft, clingy powder when an all too familiar figure came storming naked into the room while barking at Hermione to come back to bed. I felt the sand slip from my hand as I stared in horror at him, somehow unable to tear my eyes away.

He was midway into the room before he noticed I was there. I could see the moment when he registered my presence. His whole body stiffened and his eyes locked with mine. My hands instinctively curled about my stomach and I felt like I was going to be sick.

The man standing in front of me was not my brother.

Hermione starting babbling about being in love and knowing it was wrong but not being able to help herself because it was true love and pleading with me to understand. I shot her a glance that would have done Snape proud and pulled myself up to my full height.

"Don't bother explaining to me Granger." I said in full Weasley furry. "Save it for Ron, he just might care." I looked back at her companion and shook my head. "I would be lying if I said I was surprised. After all, he warned me that you might do this."

My voice sounded odd, as if I was listening to someone else use it. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks and resisted the urge to wipe them away. I pulled out my wand, muttered a quick spell and then raised it. I heard Hermione gasp and rolled my eyes.

"Don't be such a drama queen, I just want to leave you two to your _affair_" I snarled.

I heard weeping behind me and whirled about to see her attempting to sob into her lover's shoulder while he held her at arm's distance. I gave a shrill laugh and shook my head again. He opened his mouth to say something but I slapped a silencing spell on him before he could.

"I said I don't want to hear it." I hissed. Then I grinned malevolently at him and added in a singsong voice "And don't bother coming home Harry, all the wards have already been changed."

I went straight to my Mum and spent the next three hours sobbing hysterically without making very much sense. She did the mother thing and patted my back while making soothing noises whenever I attempted to explain. When my tears had all dried up and my sobs had faded into hiccups she sat me down at the table, handed me a cup of hot tea and asked me to tell her what had happened.

I ranted and raved about what I had seen and what it meant and when she had finally pieced it all together she flew into a rage the likes of which I had never seen before. She bustled about the kitchen harrumphing and spitting out orders as if she were a captain of a ship instead of a slightly overweight housewife.

She spent a good hour cursing his sainted name and shaking her wooden spoon at a picture of him that rested with the rest of the family photos on a shelf over the sink. The mini Harry inside cowed in a corner trying desperately to hide behind a tree. Then she turned to the photo of Hermione and Ron and let out a scream that should have brought the house down. Instead it brought the twins and my father rushing to the kitchen.

They stared at her in shock as she tore the half of the picture containing Hermione into little pieces with a single-minded viciousness that she had not shown since the end of the war. They listened in a hushed silence as she filled them in on The Betrayal and then exploded into a cacophony of threats and insults when she paused long enough for them to think she was finished.

Fred started patting my hand in a most distressing manner while he and George came up with plans that would punish Harry and Hermione while providing them with new products in hushed tones. I was more than slightly worried that the pair of them would do something illegal and when I said as much they smiled sweetly at me. I gave them both a sour look and then removed my hand from my brother's. Mum caught my look and snipped that they were to be on their best behavior and that she had better not hear about Harry or Hermione coming down with a mysterious sickness or sprouting extra arms.

Then she made me promise I would go straight to Luna and pour my heart out to her and at the same time letting the wizarding world know that the famous Harry Potter has betrayed his best friend, cheated on his fiancée and turned his back on the family that all but adopted him and considered him one of their own for the past eleven years.

When I bitterly mentioned that someone should tell Ron she told me not to worry because she and my father would take care of it for me. At that point I started sobbing again and she pulled me into her chest. I snuggled into her familiar warmth and tried to believe her as she promised that everything would be okay.

I was still sniffling when I reached Luna's. I stood out side her door and hesitated only a moment before knocking. When she didn't answer I assumed that she must have gone out and took the note that my mother had helped me write less than twenty minuets ago from my pocket. I was in the process of pinning it up when the door opened and a rumpled Luna came stumbling out. She took one look at my puffy eyes and shook her head. She threw an arm around my shoulder then leaned over and kissed me gently on my cheek. Then she invited me inside, sat me on the sofa and bustled into the kitchen to make some tea.

She hurried back out with the kettle floating slowly in her wake. Luna gave a little sigh as she settled into her chair and gave me a quizzical look before pulling out her quill and nibbling on the end of it. Her shrewd eyes missed nothing and I felt like a strange insect being slowly dissected. I squirmed a little in my seat wondering not for the first time if this was all a big mistake. She instantly recognized my discomfort and she reached out a hand to me.

I took hold of it as if not doing so would mean the death of me. I felt the unwanted tears welling up in my eyes again. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. Luna cocked her head to the side and opened her mouth as if to speak. Then she shut it again and glanced down at the ink and pile of paper in front of her.

"Do you need me as a friend or a reporter Gin?" she asked with trepidation. I closed my eyes and tried my hardest not to start crying. She was next to me in an instant and as she rubbed my back I poured out my unhappiness. I told her all my hopes and broken dreams; I told her of my heartbreak and I told her about my need to understand all the emotions I was feeling. When I had finished I sat back and giggled.

Luna's lips twitched as I explained that I had just spent the last four or five hours doing the exact same thing with my mother. She reached over and squeezed my hand reassuringly and suddenly I knew that everything would work out. I took a deep breath and bit my lower lip.

"There's something else Luna." I said quietly. "Something I haven't told anyone else. Not even Harry." I broke down again but stiffened my spine and mentally shook myself. "I had wanted it to be special. I pictured all of our family together in a room, preferably right after the wedding, and then Harry was going to be bursting with pride and I would be a vision of loveliness and…" I trailed off and stared blankly at one of Luna's ugly chartreuse armchairs. "And that just isn't going to happen." I finished with a sigh.

"Oh Ginny, it's okay to be sad." she said as she started to rub my back again. I grimaced and gave an ironic laugh.

"No. I refuse to be sad. I refuse to let them ruin this for me." She made a clucking noise in agreement as I stood and faced her. "I want you to tell everyone Luna. I want it to be splayed across the front page of every magazine and newspaper out there; I want the whole world to know what he gave up without a thought. " I knew I was being a sore loser, but I didn't care. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to make him feel an iota of the pain I was feeling and right now I didn't give a tinkers damn if what I was doing was morally just or not. With all of these mixed up emotions rolling through me I looked her straight in the eye and all but screamed "I want Harry to be the last to know that he is going to be a father!"


	2. Heart of Darkness

Chapter Two

I am not sure what to think really. I sit in my room in my flat trying to separate mine from his and failing miserably. So far I have managed to toss all his dirty wash into a box but that was over an hour ago and since then I have been reading through old love letters and crying over pictures. I know this is not healthy but my broken heart and my sleep deprived brain aren't really up to the task of stopping me.

I spent more than half the night hiccupping into what I guess is now the closet thing I have to a best friend's shoulder while explaining that it's all for the best really and that I don't mind a bit that my world has fallen apart. He didn't believe me either. 

I sigh as I put the now tear stained letter I was reading down and reach for another. I bring a hand to my hair and idly run my hands through it. It is something Harry use to do all the time and I find comfort in it even as I resent myself for doing it. 

Something in my snaps and I ball up the faded parchment in my hand. I am suddenly filled with a unparalleled rage and within an instant I am screaming at the photo's of Harry littering my floor. I scoop up my wand and set things flying dangerously about the bedroom. I feel betrayed and I don't want anything of his in my sight. 

Almost as soon as it hits me, my anger subsides and I sink back to the ground with my arms wrapped about my waist. I am sobbing again. I wanted it so badly. Looking back now I can see all the signs, I can tell that my life was just a dream. But I believed in the fairy tail, I believed that I would have my happy ending and that all that I wished for as a girl was coming true. 

I worked hard for it, blast it! I sacrificed so much, gave so damned much of myself up for it. What right did she have to come and steal away what was rightfully mine? What right did she have? I let myself scream until my throat is raw and my eyes are burning, then I put my hands to my eyes and press gently while taking deep claming breath after deep claming breath.

I pull myself off of the floor and stumble to the kitchen sink. The dirty disks seem to be mocking me as I stare unseeing out the window. How can the sky still be blue? I think to myself. How can everything be the same as it was yesterday? I turn the knobs and let the hot water blast over my wrist, soaking my sleeves. 

The water almost spills over the rim before I realize it. I forgot to add the soak and when I notice I break down again. Of course he wanted her. I cannot even manage to wash dishes without making a cock-up of it. I am standing there with my robes soaked and my eyes red when the buzzer goes off. 

I answer the door dripping greasy water and instantly slam it shut again. On my front steep is every reporter not worth her salt and their photographer. I slump against the door as cat calls echo through the thin wood. I thunk my head against it and wince. My hand flies to the back of my head and starts rubbing the lump as if that will make it better. I cannot think of how this day can get any worst.

And then it does.

Hermione is standing in my fireplace with a sheepish look on her face and a hand extended towards me as if to say 'I come in peace.' I stare at her not quite believing that she is there. She clears her throat uneasily and takes a step into the room. In an instant I am nose to nose with her and screaming. She backs up faster than I thought humanly possible and shoves a piece of parchment at me as if will make me come to my senses. 

She is babbling about rights and legal terms of agreement but all I can hear is her patronizing tone. I push her hard and she falls among the ashes. I point to the pot of floo powder and tell her in no uncertain terms that she is no longer welcome in my house. She gapes at me, her jaw seeming to hit her knees as she attempts to right herself. I point again and she gulps. Then she snatches up a handful is gone. 

Her whole visit could not have been more then eight minuets but it seems as if it lasted fifteen years. I suddenly feel ice cold water dripping down my arms and my stomach is revolting. I am running to the loo with no dignity whatsoever and am retching almost before I reach it. Long after I think I should have stopped, the convulsions cease and I drag myself back to my bedroom. I crawl under my blankets and as I fall asleep I make a promise to myself never to fall in love again.

A month later not much has changed except the size of my robes. The flat is still a wreck and the reporters have set up tents in my building's garden. I still haven't packed up Harry's things; the dishes that mocked me would have been molding if my mum hadn't stopped in and dropped by a self washing charm. I haven't seen the light of day and have developed black circles under my eyes despite the fact that all I do is eat and sleep. 

I am a mess and I know it. 

My mum told me I have to buck up, my father told me that everything happens for a reason; my boss told me I have less than a week of vacation left, my midwife told me that I have to start taking better care of myself and an angry eagle owl left me note after note telling me that bloody Harry Potter isn't worth all of this. But none of that matters. Not one little bit of that matters. 

All that matters now is what is best for my child. 

I put a hand on my belly and feel a slight movement in response. I bite my lip and remind myself that I am not aloud to live like this. I have a baby to think of, a little person who doesn't deserve to have a sluttish mother to go along with his prat of a father. 

And so four weeks, three hours, twenty minuets and seven seconds after I saw my fiancée wrapped in my best friend's arms I force myself to get over it. Not over it, over it. Just over it enough to be able to get on with life. I drag myself out of my musty smelling covers, open my window and take a deep breath of the late afternoon air. I turn back to the room and wrinkle my nose at the unpleasant aroma of half eaten meals and stale vomit. 

A few quick spells later and the whole house is setting itself to right again. My teeth are brushed and my hair is neatly combed. I have a real outfit on, have spelled Harry's things to find him, and am feeling pretty pleased with myself when my stomach decides it hates me. I am once again crouched over my toilet when a light tapping starts on the door. 

I ignore it. The tapping grows louder and more persistent. I ignore it some more, pretending that I am in a green field with purple flowers blooming all around me. The tapping turned into pounding. Angry pounding. A disgruntled voice was yelling 'I know you're in there!' for all the world to hear and a rush of relief comes sweeping through me.

"Ron!" I bellowed as I flew to the front door. I threw it open and was almost balled over by one of his patented hugs.

"How's my baby sister doing?" he whispered into my hair.

Ron doesn't give me soothing sounds and comforting pats. Ron doesn't tell me it will all be alright. Ron sits on the edge of my sofa with his head in his hands and weeps for what might have been while letting me do the comforting for a change. 

I try to force tea on him to no avail and ask him if he had suspected anything. Unlike me he knew that his partner was fooling around. He just didn't know who with. His swollen eyes blink frantically as he tells of ever shorter letters and vague hints that she let drop. 

"But how could he?" he asks bitterly. "He was my mate; he was my brother."

I nod and think that we are the only two people who are able to understand.

I scowl at the headlines and rustle the papers as if that will change them. In each of them Harry is begging me to reconsider, to think of the baby and do what is right. He loves me, they cry, he was wrong and he would do anything to get me back. On the next page smaller print tells me that he and Hermione have moved in together and that they were seen in Gringotts possibly combining bank accounts. 

I haven't spoken to the press. I don't count Luna. They don't count Luna. Luna doesn't count Luna. Not really, and it works out wonderfully for us all that way. So my side of the story, while being the scoop of the century according to Witch Weekly, who bought it at a more than fair rate if that claim is true, still has not been told. And it will stay that way. 

I have done my best to return to normal, but things keep popping out to remind me that what I thought of as my life is gone. Example: I was walking home from work yesterday and I happened to see a lovely little purple and cream dream of a dress. I turned to tell Harry that I had found my flower girl dresses only to find myself staring at empty space. Harry doesn't walk me home from work anymore.

Ron stayed with me for a little less than two weeks and together we came to some sort of understanding. Neither of us talked about it after that first night, but we both seemed to know exactly what it was the other needed. He didn't make a fuss when I invited my new best friend to join my old ones for an informal dinner party and I didn't say a thing when I found him sobbing while holding one of her old socks. He moved his stuff into my spare room before leaving and I promised to write.

With him gone the house always seems so empty and I find myself making extra noise to fill the space. Like this morning with the papers. I can read them well enough without having to shake and crinkle them, but not doing so makes the morning air seem still and depressing. 

I have been given a leave of absence from work until three months after the baby is born. That means a good six and a half months from now, if I did my calculations correctly that is. Three and a half months to ready my home for my new arrival and then three months to welcome him or her into the world. I didn't ask what the sex of my child is. I don't want to know.

If it is a boy I will be smug that I gave him something she never can, his first born son, his heir. But I will also worry about transplanting my emotions for the father on the fresh person I am given. If I have a little girl then I will ache for not having a mini version of the man I loved, but I will be able to see her for who she is instead of who she reminds me of. 

Harry always said… Who cares what Harry said or says for that matter. I sigh. Clearly I do. I put the paper down and try to clear my mind of thoughts of him. It is no use. I cannot set aside all the feelings I had for him in an instant. I just cannot. No matter how much I wish I could. I feel my brow furrow and tell myself it doesn't matter. 

Harry was always jealous of my relationship with my co-workers. He would go on for hours about how men only want one thing from a pretty young witch. Especially if she belongs to someone else. Out of love for him I limited myself, I kept things as close to professional as any woman is able. But now he is gone and my work place friendships are flourishing. 

Well, to be honest, one of my work place friendships is flourishing.

The one involving what use to be my biggest secret. Me, the guiles girl. Me, the one who has never kept her mouth closed since she woke up on a wet floor over ten years ago, I hid this from him. Harry never would have understood. He hated him, thought him little better than his Death Eater father. And for Harry that worked well. 

Childhood enemies are never outgrown. I know mine aren't. So I didn't expect him to suddenly accept his arch rival simply because I had become fond of him. To save him the pain that dealing with my willingness to embrace someone he thought pure evil, I bit my tongue. 

But I'm not biting it now. 

I welcomed Draco into my home with the air of a queen. I knew at least twenty pairs of eyes and half as many cameras were focused on me doing so and I did not want to let their readers down. I wore a slinky maternity gown that somehow clung to my breasts and not my belly as I did and silently thanked the gods for my sister-in-law's good taste.

He did not arrive alone, so I simply waved him in and then shut my door behind the group without much fanfare. I waited until I had greeted everyone else before turning to face him. He held me close to him and whispered encouragement in my ear before releasing me and going off with whom ever his date for the evening was. I smiled fondly after him and jumped when Luna tugged on my arm. 

"Don't stare so" she tittered "People might say you're in love."

I disengaged my arm and eyed her suspiciously. She swayed slightly and I groaned. We made small talk for a little while longer then I politely asked her to make her way to my bedroom and make use of my bed until she had recovered. She tittered again and zigzagged a path to the proffered room. After watching to make sure she arrived in safety, I turned back to my guests. 

My first formal party since the split is a hit, so all the papers say, and I am the toast of the town because of it. Young girls write in that they want to be me when they grow up. Strong women willing to face all that life has to offer, able to handle the bumps along the way. I read these letters and shake my head. Clearly they don't know me.

A very old friend once told me that publicity is everything. That the truth is not what really happened, but what people think happened. I guffawed and told her she was out of her mind but all these years later I realize that she is right. 

The real me, the person all these silly girls want to be, cries every night for the loss of her innocence. The real me doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning, isn't bathing as often as she should, and has learned a spell that vanishes messes from sight instead of actually cleaning them up. But that is not what the rest of the world sees. To them I am some sort of brave woman, some one to be lauded because I didn't die when I found out about my love's affair and didn't attempt murder when confronted with his mistress. What to me is barely civil behavior is praised by the masses as self restraint and poise. 

It does not shame me to admit that more often then not I wish I was the woman they think I am. 


	3. No Longer At Ease

They are getting married. They are. It said so in the papers. So it must be true. There was a gooey picture of them looking like turtledoves along with an in-depth interview. Hermione says she always knew he was the one. Harry says he loves her in a way he has never loved before. And the public, well the public just laps it up.

I, on the other hand, feel like I want to die.

In the time it was taken for me to swell to the size of a beached wale, the pair of them have found 'undying love' and have 'decided to commit to each other' until 'their last breath has past.' I laughed when I first read it. Now all I can do is cry.

Why wasn't I good enough? What was I lacking? How is it that a little over four months ago he told me he loved me and she said I was the sister she never had, and now the two of them have written me off. Did I really mean so little? Was it really that easy to forget that I ever was a part of their lives? I am seven months along with Harry's child and both of them seem totally oblivious to that fact.

They plan on getting married in just shy of three months. How ironic is it that Harry picked the exact day that my midwife said our child would be born on.

* * *

Draco Flooed by this afternoon and caught me weeping. He pulled me close and didn't make a fuss over the state of his robes when I finally pulled away. His eyes were full of concern and an emotion I didn't recognize. He said that he had wanted to see how I was dealing with their engagement and I made a catty remark about how remarkably well I was handling it. He just raised an eyebrow. 

I blushed. I shrugged and told him that I wasn't a tin cut out of a woman and that I had emotions that couldn't be hidden behind a mask. He narrowed his eyes and looked peevish, but didn't say anything. Instead he whisked me off to a fabulous dinner and feed me more ice cream than any woman, even a pregnant one, should have. He didn't ask me about why I was crying and I thanked him for it when he left. He nodded and told me he would stop by again tomorrow.

I don't know how I would manage without him.

My family is no good. Mum is too protective to be any use and Dad just shakes his head uncomfortably and pats my hand. As much as I love my brothers, the thought of trying to explain my tangled emotions to them is more than I can bear.

There is no one else I can turn to. I can't even look most of my friends in the eye. They all know him and love him, and if they don't know him they still love him. He's The Boy Who Lived. He saved us from Voldemort. Twice. So if he wants to ditch his fiancée in favor of the woman who was by his side that second time, who are they to judge?

A few of them, Luna, Hanna, and Neville, have actually come close to understanding. But I can't share my heartache with them. I just can't. I'm deeply embarrassed by it. I should have seen the signs. They all did. Luna bites her lips when I say I was clueless and Neville doesn't look me in the eye when I tell him how surprised I was. They all knew, or thought they knew, but not one of them told me.

Draco did. He wasn't in our inner circle and was never so much as in the same room with Harry, but somehow he pieced it all together and had the pluck to tell me as much. He told me that Harry wasn't behaving like a man besotted a good month before I caught them and all he got for his efforts was a particularly nasty hex. I thought he was being cynical and nasty.

I was such a fool.

* * *

I was in Madam Malkin's today picking up a batch of new maturity robes when they walked in. It was the first time I had seen them since that fateful morning. Harry saw me first. He blinked and then swallowed hard and turned to say something to her. Her head swiveled round and she smirked at me. She looked me up and down, then turned her head to one side and_smirked_ at me. 

I was instantly aware of the fact that I was wearing the same robes I slept in and that my hair hadn't been washed this morning. I felt frumpy and fat. I wanted to disappear. She smiled at me and wiggled her fingers in my direction. Then she wrapped herself around Harry and simpered something up at him.

I knew that they knew that I was staring and I didn't care. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. I felt as if my stomach had dropped out of my body and that my heart had decided to implode. I couldn't have moved if my life depended on it. I don't know how long I stood like that, it felt like hours but it couldn't have been more than five minuets, before Harry turned and all but dragged Hermione out the door.

I was rooted to the spot for a while longer until the girl at the counter cleared her throat. I spun round and glared at her. She blushed and said something about awkward moments and running into old boyfriends but I didn't really hear her. I paid for my robes in a daze and Apparated home.

I amazed myself by not crying. I thought I would. I really did. But all I could think about was the way she had clung to his arm and the sad, sorry sort of look he had sent me before turning away. I don't know why but I almost pitied Hermione. She was so very unsure of herself. If she hadn't been then she would have ignored me instead of trying to kill me with her eyes.

Sometimes I think I hate her. Sometimes I think I don't. I am too confused and torn up inside to decide which one it is. Part of me desperately wants her to be happy. A strange sick part of my heart hopes that she is happy with him. I want it all to make sense. I don't want my heartbreak to be in vain. In a perverse way, it makes me feel better to think that theirs really is a love for all time and that they will be together till their last dying breath. Otherwise what was the point?

I would rather have him have left me for his one true love than for a quick shag.

Is that really something awful?

* * *

I have officially lost my mind. 

I admit it. It takes a strong woman to face a mental break down and come out alright on the other side. I am that woman. Or at least I want to be. I sent them a wedding gift. A pretty one too. Something sweet and charming that I know Hermione will love. It's not as bad as it sounds. I already had the gift. I bought it for her ages ago and was just saving it for Christmas or her birthday or some such.

I wasn't planning on doing it.

It's just that they sent me an invite to the wedding and I knew I couldn't go. There was no way I could. I think that they were being particularly nasty to send it, but once I had it in my hands I couldn't stop myself opening it. And once I opened it I had to read it. Part way through the announcement I had tears streaming down my cheeks. By the time I had finished I wasn't in my right mind. That is the only excuse I have for what I did and even I know it's pretty weak.

When I told Draco he rolled his eyes and asked me if I wanted to check myself into St. Mungo's or if he should do it for me. I snapped at him and told him where he could put it, but at the same time I knew that he was right. Am I a glutton for punishment? Why on earth did I send them it? I wish I could get my owl to bring it back.

If I am honest with myself I know why I did it. I sent her that gift because I still care about her. Even though she hurt me and obviously doesn't care about me, I still remember all the time we spent together and all the memories we made. I don't understand how she doesn't.

How do you shut off your emotions? How do you make yourself hate, or if not hate then at least not care for, someone you thought of as your sister?

I am having a harder time with Hermione then I am with Harry.

What he did was unpardonable. I loved him with all of my being and he threw that away. I wasn't worth it. But then I never really was. I was always little Ginny, Ron's tagalong sister. I was always there sighing and adoring and so full of hero worship, it's no wonder he finally noticed me. He would have been blind not to.

Then, after all those years of waiting around and trying to get him to notice me, we have less than a month together before he acts the bloody hero and breaks it off. The next year he didn't so much as mention us getting back together. No, he just went on with life and turned to her. And Ron. But more to her. She was there by his side when he faced Voldemort, not me. She was the one who helped carry his unconscious body off the battle field and was hanging around his bed at St. Mungo's almost as much as I was.

Those first few months after he woke up, who was it that he spent his time with? Her. And Ron. But not me. He didn't ask for me. He wouldn't let me visit him. He said he didn't want me to see him like that and, fool that I was, I believed him. It makes perfect sense that he would want her and not me.

But how could she? When she knew how much I loved him. I told her everything. She knew my impression of our first kiss. I told me all my secret longings and desires. I confided in her. She was to be my maid of honor. She was helping me plan my wedding, for Merlin's sake!

Hermione was the closest I ever came to having a sister. And losing that hurt far more than losing my lover.

* * *

Draco came over tonight with take away. I could have kissed him. I was dreading cooking. I have never been fond of it and pregnancy hasn't improved my outlook on the subject. So when I opened the door and saw the little white box in his hands I all but cooed in delight. 

He smiled at me, that lazy little lift of the lips of his that tells me he thinks he's wonderful, and I grinned right back. I waved him into the kitchen and had him set the box in the center of the table. Then I gave it a little tap with my wand and a delectable spread appeared complete with candles. I let out a happy little sigh and gave Draco a wide smile. He motioned to me to the table and pulled out my chair for me. When I was sitting he dropped a kiss on my head and told me to enjoy my dinner.

He walked over to the kitchen and got himself a glass of wine. He brought the bottle back with him to the table and spent a good half hour quizzing me about my day and how I was feeling while I stuffed my face. It was heavenly. After I was done he charmed the dishes away and escorted me to the couch. He put some soft music on the wireless, wrapped me in a blanket and told me to take care of myself.

He was almost to the door when I asked him why he was being so nice to me. He shrugged one shoulder and told me not to ruin a good thing with questions.

I don't know what I did to deserve him.

* * *

**A.N. **blushes I just realized that I have more chapters written then I have up. clears throat Actually, I have six chapters written that haven't yet been posted. Which doesn't finsih out the fic but wow. How can you just forget that you have six more chapters to post? I think one of the book came out and cannon changed and I just stopped paying attention to my old wips. Anywho, sorry for the delay. Here are two perfectly lovely chapters. Hopefully the other four will be betaed and out for you before another, oh, two years go by. 


	4. Beloved

I am on my way home after a visit with Lavender when I feel someone grab my wand arm. I panic and start trying to jerk free. Nothing happens except that I lose my balance and tumble into the person holding me. I am just about to scream when I feel the unmistakable jerk of a portkey.

I am terrified.

Everyone knows you aren't allowed to Apparate or use a portkey once you enter your third trimester. The pressure on the stomach can injure the baby and in some cases has lead to premature labor. I have been told to make sure to use a less dangerous form of transportation every time I have a check up at St. Mungo's and have been avoiding them since the start of my second trimester just to be safe.

Within seconds I have arrived and glance at my surroundings. I am in Hermione's flat. I turn towards my assailant. It's Harry. Instantly all my fear turns into anger. I slap him. Hard. I can see the red imprint of my hand across his cheek within seconds and know that it will leave a nasty welt. I feel a bitter joy at the knowledge.

I am screaming at him, calling him names and bemoaning his stupidity. He is backing up as I advance on him and has his hands out in front as if to ward off my ire. I have followed him into the bed room and when he bumps against the bed I stop long enough to take a breath.

He sits down and says, "I didn't mean to scare you, Ginny. I just wanted to talk."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not scared," I say in a voice I don't recognize. "I am enraged. How dare you endanger my child!"

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't know," Harry says. "I never would have done it if I had."

"That is no excuse." I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. "What if you had caused me to miscarry? What then Harry?"

"Ginny, you are at least eight months along, even if it had sent you into labor it wouldn't have made you miscarry."

I turn towards Hermione. I didn't even notice she was there until she spoke. I know that what she said is logical, but I don't care. I take a step towards her and see her eyes widen in fear.

"Maybe I should leave the two of you alone," she says in a tight voice, then she's gone.

I spin around, all my attention back on Harry. He takes a deep breath and nods towards the door. "I won't stop you if you want to leave, Ginny, but I really do want to talk to you."

I march to the door. Harry hurries after me, begging me not to go. I walk down the short hall and plunk myself down on the arm chair. Harry blinks at me and starts babbling about how grateful he is that I am staying. I give him the dirtiest look I can and say, "You wanted to talk."

He swallows hard. "I did."

"Then talk."

Harry rakes a hand through his hair. The familiar gesture tugs at me. I know I am on the verge of tears and so I harden my expression. He gulps and takes his time settling on the couch. I glare at him and glance pointedly at my watch. He leans forward and says the last thing I expected.

"I want to be there Ginny. I want to witness the birth of my child."

He keeps talking but I don't hear him. I can't believe his nerve. I tell him as much and he starts spluttering about paternal rights and how it was his baby too. I can tell that this was going to be Hermione's part of the conversation and that he didn't pay proper attention when she was explaining. The fact that he planned on having his current fiancée talk his former fiancée into letting him watch the birth of his child is just too much.

I stand up. "I'm not changing my mind Harry. It is my right to say who can be in the birthing room, not yours. You would know that if you had listened to Hermione."

"It's my baby too!" he says desperately.

I shake my head. "I don't care. I don't want you anywhere near me, Harry. I won't keep you from seeing the baby after it's born, but you will not be there when it is."

I walk to the fireplace and pick up a handful of Floo. "I am going to be talking to my lawyer. If you try to pull another stunt like this you will end up in front on the Wizengamot." He glares at me but doesn't say anything. I nod and say, "Home," as I drop the powder.

As soon as I step into my flat I head to my desk and pen a quick note to Draco. If anyone knows where I can find a good lawyer it would be him. After that I write another note to Lavender, asking her to please explain how Harry knew where to find me. I am pretty sure what her answer will be and am perfectly willing to forgive her when she asks me to. Still, I am extremely upset and the letter I send is just short of being a Howler.

* * *

I was right. Draco knew exactly whom to contact. Even better, he took care of it himself. I insisted on paying, but I let him deal with all the details. He had the firm send me over a copy of the restraining order to sign in little under two hours and I received confirmation from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that my petition had been approved the very next day.

He took me out to dinner to celebrate.

I love when he does that. Having an attractive man fawn over me and flatter me is simply brilliant. I don't believe a word he says, of course, but it nice nonetheless. We had a pleasant chat during the meal and I invited him back to my place afterwards for coffee. That is to say, he had coffee and I all but drooled into his cup. Draco teased me about it. He said he wished I looked at him the way I was looking at his cup. I laughed and told him that I couldn't wait till I can have caffeine again. He nodded and said that life just isn't worth living if you can't have coffee and chocolate.

Then he asked me about the baby.

I started to give him the standard line about how happy and excited I was, but my eyes locked with his and I couldn't help but tell him the truth. I told him how miserable and alone I felt. I said that I knew that my life was going to change and I didn't know how I was going to deal with it. I confessed that I was feeling bitter and starting to resent the baby. I told him that was why I didn't want to know the gender.

Draco told me it was perfectly natural to feel that way. He took hold of my hand and made me look him in the eyes. He told me that I was going to be a wonderful mother and that I was a strong woman. He told me that he respected me and my ability to move on. He said he wouldn't have been anywhere near as forgiving as I was if he was in my place and that I was going to be alright. And I believed him.

* * *

Maeryn Lillian Potter was born July 3, 2001. Maeryn for my mother and Lillian for his. I gave birth to her forty days before my twentieth birthday. I went into labor early that morning but didn't have her until it was nearly the forth. I will be honest and say that when I first saw her I thought she was the strangest looking thing I had ever seen.

I had just given birth to her and the medi-witch put her on my chest while they took care of the afterbirth. She was bright red with a scrunched up face and black hair that stood straight up. She was crying. For half a second I thought I had never seen anything as unfinished. Then she opened her eyes and looked at me and I knew she was as precious as the stars. I put my tired arms around her and cried with her telling her I loved her between my tears.

I didn't want to let go of her.

I reached over to the side of the bed and grabbed my wand. Then I cast a few simple spells to clean her up and dress her. She was everything a new baby should be, all pink and sweet smelling with the softest hair and skin so smooth it felt like silk. I can't describe how happy she made me.

I held her as the medi-witch healed me and while she explained what spells I should use if I felt any pain over the next few weeks. When the medi-witch came to take her away and do the some tests I asked to go with. She gave me a put upon look and told my attendant to give me a calming potion. I refused to drink it and demanded to speak to her supervisor. She threw up her hands in frustration but did as I asked.

The senior medi-witch was just as unsympathetic but by the time she arrived so had my mother. I watched in amusement as my mother whipped out her wands and performed the tests herself. She delivered all seven of her babies at home and told the senior medi-witch as much. Then she bundled little Mae and myself up took us to the Burrow.

The rest of the family was gathered there. I placed Mae in the same bassinette my mother once put me in and tucked soft blankets around her. I kissed the wispy hair on the crown of her head and then stood back and I proudly presented my daughter.

"She's beautiful," Ron said as he touched her head. "She's perfect," Fleur cooed while Bill leaned over her shoulder to get a better look. Charlie tucked a stuffed dragon in beside her and Percy brushed back her hair with a soft smile. Fred put his arm around one side of me and George did the same on the other. I rested my head on Fred's shoulder and felt him squeeze me tight.

I couldn't have imagined a better way to welcome my daughter into the world.

* * *

Introducing Mae to Harry was the hardest moment of my life. She was born on her due date, which was the same day that Harry and Hermione were married. I didn't notify when I went into labor. It never crossed my mind that he wouldn't be reachable afterwards.

They didn't tell me that they planned a two month honeymoon and that they wouldn't be able to be owled while they were gone. Harry said that he never considered that I might give birth while they were away, and I believe him. What I don't believe is that Hermione didn't think of it. In fact, I am absolutely certain that she knew.

Not that it matters.

I think I caught a lucky break. I got to have little Mae all to myself for two whole months and no one in the world, not even Harry, could fault me. Unfortunately that made it all the harder to share her when the moment finally came.

I didn't want to watch. I didn't want to see him hand her my daughter. I didn't want to hear him coo at Mae while she was holding her. I definitely didn't want to feel my heart breaking once again. It took all my strength not to snatch my precious little baby out of Hermione's arms.

I was grateful when it was time to go.

Harry's face darkened when I told him how little time he would have with her, and Hermione predictably started ranting about father's rights, but I had an order signed by the Chief Warlock so there really wasn't anything they could do to stop me.

They muttered and hissed and gave me dreadful looks, but I didn't stay one second longer than I had to.

* * *

Nothing is worst than visitation. Nothing. Mae is too young to be separated from me. I know she is. I don't care what experts say. I know my baby. I know myself. If I feel as if a piece of my heart is missing every time she is gone then how must she feel? I don't care about Harry and his wishes. If he wants to see her that is just fine, but he should have to come over here and not take her away from me. It's only two hours every other day. It's not that big of an inconvenience.

If I can put up with being with him and certainly he can deal with being around me. I wouldn't even fuss if Hermione came with him, just so long as they didn't take my Mae away from me.

I get so depressed when she is with them.

I have a standing invitation to spend those hours with Draco, but I don't want to. He would just pat my hand and tell me not to worry. I don't want to hear that. I would go if he promised to thoroughly abuse Harry, Hermione and those damned experts. I told him as much when he made the offer but he just laughed and said not to be ridiculous.

Ridiculous.

I'm not being ridiculous. I'm being a mother.


	5. A Separate Peace

Mae is the most darling girl in the world. Her hair is long enough now for it to curl and her eyes have stared to change colors. They won't be fixed until she is past the one year point but it's pretty safe to say that they won't be staying blue. She smiles now. Her cubby cheeks dimple and she coos when I smile back at her.

She's beautiful.

I can spend hours just watching her sleep. She sighs and scrunches her nose up and I wonder what dreams are filling her unconscious mind. I love the warm weight of her sleeping body on my chest. I love the way she roots at my breast in her sleep. I love absolutely everything about her.

I can't wait until she can talk. I want to know what is going on behind those bright eyes. I want to hear her thoughts and opinions. I want to hear her call me Mummy and say that she loves me.

Sometimes I wish there was spell I could use to freeze her exactly as she is. I want her to stay small and adorable the rest of my life. I want always to feel the weight of her in my arms and smell that sweet baby scent. She has already grown so much. It seems like she doubles in size over night. I'm afraid to blink for fear that I'll miss something vital.

Draco laughs when I tell him how I feel. He says that she's still a mite of a thing and that I will have years and years to watch her grow. He doesn't understand how finite a thing childhood is. How can he? He's not a father.

Mum, on the other hand, understands perfectly. She says to take a thousand pictures each day and to cherish every second I have because before I know it Mae will be a headstrong teenager who knows everything and thinks I'm a thicko. Not a comforting thought at all, really.

* * *

I am not a fit mother. Ask anyone, they'll tell you all about it. How is it that the average wizard on the street knows this? Hermione told them. That's right. She told them. She had a nice little chat about it with Glenda Chittock on last week's _Witching Hour_. The stupid cow. 

I could kill her. I could bloody well kill her. What does she know about children? She's been married, what, six months now and as such is a stepmother. But seeing as how she didn't even see Mae for the first two months of her life and has had minimal contact with her since, I don't think she is at all qualified to make judgments.

Harry only sees Mae for two hour blocks and I know for a fact that Hermione has yet to be alone with her. Which means that Hermione has no, as in zero, experience as a mother. And even if she did, how could she possibly judge my parenting style when she has yet to see me actually interact with Mae? I drop her off to Harry and then leave. Two hours later I pick her up. What takes place during that time is a mystery to me. What takes place in my home is equally mysterious to Hermione.

And what exactly have I done that makes me a terrible mother in the first place?

Mae is six months old. She's perfectly healthy according to her latest well baby check up and is actually a little advanced for her age in certain areas. Which means I am doing just fine, thanks. Merlin, she doesn't even have diaper rash, although, to be honest, credit for that goes to my Mum. She's got this amazing set of parenting charms. Taught me them before little Mae was born and I swear that they are the only things keeping me sane.

So, as I was saying, I am not a bad mother. And even if I was, where does Hermione get off telling the world about it? Say that I was neglecting Mae in some way, shouldn't Hermione talk to me about it? Shouldn't she maybe drop a hint or two to me? And if she felt like maybe that would be too awkward a situation, couldn't she send me an owl? Not that I would read anything she sent to me, but still.

Who goes on the wireless and levels all sorts of unfounded accusations?

The wireless isn't the right forum for that kind of a discussion.

And Glenda didn't even ask about me or Mae. She just asked a simple question about life as a newlywed. And Hermione goes all noble and longer suffering and blathers on about how hard it is to deal with immature people who think of nothing but themselves and use their innocent babies as weapons.

Utter rubbish.

Unfortunately, I am the only one, outside of my family and close friends, who sees it that way. I have gotten too many Howlers to count. I had to take my fireplace off the Floo network and going out in public is like walking the gauntlet. Because I am the nation's number one target at the moment.

I've stopped taking the papers. It's just too hard to see my face and read all those blistering editorials. Last I heard seventy percent of The Daily Prophet's subscribers think I should lose custody of Mae. Seventy percent. With ten percent saying that they don't care. Which means I've got ten percent in my corner and I bet all of them are rabid Harry Haters angry at the way purebloods have all but faded into obscurity.

Draco, of course, said that I should sue for libel. Not that I will. I don't want any more attention put on the matter then already has been. And Hermione did send me an apology. I did not respond to it, of course, but she sent it all the same. I'm still ready to kill the stupid bint, but sue her? What's the point?

* * *

Things have gone from bad to worst. 

I can't leave my flat. I literally cannot leave my flat. Why? Because a band of mental women have taken to stalking me and documenting my every move in an attempt to gather evidence of my alleged mistreatment of my daughter. That's right. They are stalking me to prove that I am a bad mother. Can the world get any more insane?

I've had to resign from my job and am pretty much living on charity at the moment. Mum says that I should move in with her, but I don't want the madness that has become my life to flow over into hers. Draco has repeatedly made similar offers and I am hard pressed to keep turning him down.

My options are fairly limited, to say the least. I have spent nearly all of my savings and cannot live on the child support that Harry sends. Besides, it feels wrong to use that money for anything other then Mae. My objections to moving back to the Burrow don't apply to Malfoy Manor. It's got defensive magic built into the very foundations that I can't even begin to understand and so the creepy mother-stalking brigade won't be able to breach the premises.

But.

I don't like the idea of taking advantage of my friend. I don't want to rely on Draco's good will. I don't want to be dependant on him for the food that I eat and the roof over my head. Besides, it would be rather awkward if he should bring home a romantic interest.

Still, it is a tempting offer.

It's a big house. I would probably be in a wing all by myself. I'm sure that I could avoid intruding on his privacy. And it would only be until things calmed down and I could go back to living my life. A few months from now, when all this has blown over, I will be able to move out again and maybe even repay him.

It's not a terrible fate, living in the lap of luxury.

* * *

I'm standing in the living room of my flat watching as Draco expertly shrinks boxes. I glance nervously over to the corner where Natty is playing with Mae. I'm not fond of house-elves. I've only met a handful, but every single one of them has made my skin crawl. They are just too subservient. It's like they don't have an once of self-interest. Even Dobby, for all his strangeness, only wants to please. He absolutely lives for Harry. 

I take a hesitant step in their direction but am stopped by Draco's hand on my arm. "Let them be," he says softly. "Natty was my personal nanny-elf and is more than capable of handling an infant."

"Isn't she a bit old?" I say, narrowing my eyes at the house-elf.

"She is at that, but when she heard that I needed a nanny-elf to accompany me she begged to come and I couldn't find the heart to tell her no. Don't worry, she won't be the one permanently assigned to Mae."

I frown at him. "Permanently assigned?"

"Of course."

"Draco, I don't think I want a nanny-elf assigned to Mae, permanent or otherwise."

"Nonsense. Of course you do," Draco says, as he turns back to the task at hand.

"No, I don't. I want to take care of Mae myself."

"Having a nanny-elf won't stop you from doing just that," Draco said, stacking the shrunken boxes in a neat pile. "It will simply mean that you have another pair of eyes watching out for Mae at all times."

"I don't like house-elves," I grudgingly admit.

"That's only because you aren't use to them."

"Draco," I say warningly.

"How about this," he says, neatly cutting me off. "I'll have a nanny-elf put in charge of the nursery for a week. If you still don't like the idea of having one at the end of that time, then I will let you dismiss the nanny-elf and not say a word about it."

I purse my lips, but nod. "Fair enough," I say, still watching Natty who is levitate brightly colored balls over Mae's head.

"I'm glad you decided to use your brain and accept my offer," Draco says as he slips his wand into the inner pocket of his robes. He nods at a pair of house-elves who simper and snap their fingers, vanishing along with the stack of boxes.

"I didn't honestly have much of a choice."

"Still, I'm glad that you did."

* * *

Harry is not at all pleased by the news that I have moved in with Draco. He seethes and rants at me every time I see him. Which is far too often, by my accounting. Hermione sniffs. Which is even more irritating then Harry's rants. I've asked her repeatedly if she is suffering from a runny nose. She just sniffs even louder. 

Mum and Dad aren't pleased either, but both of them are resigned to the matter. Ron. Well, I haven't actually seen Ron. No one has. But from his letter I gather that he doesn't object to my new living arrangements. Or at least that's what I assume "Fuck 'em all, Ginny," means. I worry about him.

I've got Mae to help me through. Ron has only Ron. And Ron is not exactly good company. I tried to talk Fred and George into visiting him, but they all said to mind my own business and then they fussed over Mae like she was the first baby ever born. So, of course, I couldn't be mad at them.

All I can do is write to him. Which I do daily. And ask him to please, please, please write back. Which he never does. I don't know what he is doing. Not that that is any different from normal. Ron takes his job very seriously and top secret means top secret. But with all that has happened in the last year and a half, well, I wouldn't be human if I didn't wonder about how it is all affecting him.

* * *

Life at the Manor quickly settles into a routine. I wake up around eight every morning and walk down the hall to the nursery. I check in on Mae, usually she is already up and being tended to by Daisy, the house-elf I let Draco assign to her. Daisy is a wonderful creature, not nearly as spineless as the other house-elves. But, from what Draco said, I gather that having a bit of spunk is what makes a good nanny-elf. After all, they have to stand up to their charges. 

Daisy adores Mae. She is happy to spend hours entertaining her and seems to find inner bliss whenever she changes a nappy or cleans up sick. Which just baffles me. But I'm not complaining. I love my daughter with every once of my being, but I hate a soiled nappy as much as the next person and sick is sick no matter how beloved the person it came from is.

After breakfast, I take Mae out on the grounds and we play and explore until time for her nap. I use that time to get a little work done. I've found a new position with a firm that is willing to let me work from home. It pays less then my previous job, but since I am still a major headline and cannot leave the Manor grounds, I don't really have much use for money anyway.

When Mae wakes up I feed her lunch and we spend the early afternoon hours together. I have made a habit of taking her to the library and reading classics to her. Not that she at all understands what I am reading, but I enjoy it. I sit her on the floor surrounded by toys and read until my throat is hoarse and even hot tea won't sooth it.

Then I play with her until dinner and she falls asleep for the night.

Draco typically takes part in whatever the evening activity is, helping her stand, playing with her and talking to her in a gibberish that he refuses to admit is baby talk. Narcissa sometimes joins us and, telling Mae fanciful stories while cuddling with her.

My room is located a few doors down from Draco's and right next to Narcissa's. At first I was uncomfortable being in the family wing of the Manor. I didn't like the thought that I was intruding on Draco and his mother. But then Draco pointed out that the nursery is located there and that it would be silly for me not to use it.

I was worried about Draco's mother as well. I had only vague memories of her and all of them were unpleasant. When I learned that I would be living in close quarters with her I almost changed my mind about moving in. It turns out that I had nothing to worry about at all. Narcissa is the most charming woman I have ever met.

I was flummoxed by her reception of Mae and me. She treated us like visiting royalty. She was warm and engaging and within days I felt as if I had known her forever. And she absolutely dotes on Mae. She's nearly as bad as Daisy, cooing and fussing over my daughter like Mae was her own child.

Once or twice a week my parents stop in. While still disapproving of my choice to move in with 'complete strangers' both Mum and Dad have begun to warm to the Malfoys. Mum says I had better be on my best behavior and hisses proper etiquette at me when she thinks that Narcissa can't hear. Dad somehow manages not to ramble on about Muggles and their clever inventions.

I am still terribly lonely and depressed, but it is getting easier now. I have good days. I never thought that I would. And sometimes, when I am laughing with Draco at something Mae has done, or drinking tea with Narcissa, I can almost ignore the aching in my heart.


End file.
